


Take Me To Church

by ShakeThatCocktail



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angel Derek Hale, Azazel Being an Asshole, Community: kink_bingo, Dark Angel - Freeform, Dream Manipulation, Fallen Angels, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nymphomaniac Derek Hale, Religious Stiles Stilinski, Religious Symbolism, Religious desecration, Sacrilege, Smut, Tattoos, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't a story with a good angel in it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The girl who made me realise I was bi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+girl+who+made+me+realise+I+was+bi).



> Anyone of Christian/Catholic/JustGenerallyReligious disposition- please don't read (but if you do, it is at your own volition). I didn't write this to offend you or any of the higher powers, just simply to sate my own curiosity to see if I could write something like this, and to please my fans. 
> 
> I may have been drunk the other night when I came up with this idea when I was at a gig and saw a guy wearing a leather jacket with wings studded on the back...? (I think that's what I saw...)
> 
> Enjoy and, as always; kudoses, comments, and bookmarks welcome :) xxx

The first time Stiles saw his dark angel was on his way to church on Saturday morning. He was already late- a night of gaming with Scott having run on too late and causing him to sleep in. He was still tucking in his blue shirt as he trotted down the pavement towards his local church, when he looked across the road, feeling a presence drawing his gaze. Under a line of large oak trees was a figure, clad all in black, leaning against one of the thick trunks. Stiles couldn't see his face, but a trail of cigarette smoke drifted up from where he assumed his mouth was. Stiles' eyes felt like they sharpened, and he was soon staring at the pulsing black and indigo aura around the figure, the tendrils acting like fingers, curling, beckoning him closer. The figure's arm flexed as he brought his cigarette back up to his mouth, the end of it just faintly lighting up from Stiles' distance.

"Don't wanna be late for Daddy, do ya?" a husky, gravelly voice drifted to Stiles' ears, and it took a moment for him to realise that it was the figure's voice, and the brunet teen began to tremble. "Run along."

A deep, infectious laugh that crawled under Stiles' milky flesh like a thousand itches followed him as he fled and disappeared from public view behind the heavy old church doors.

l^l^l^l^l

The second time he saw him he was late to church again. Harris had given them an extra tonne of homework to do for the next Monday, and Stiles had decided to do a big chunk of it on the Friday night, despite the fact he hated the subject and teacher. He'd fallen asleep across his textbooks around half 3 in the morning, and had only woken up with half an hour to spare before Saturday morning mass. He was still tying his tie as he moved quickly down the pavement, completely unfocused on where he was going. He let out an "Ooph!" as he collided with someone, and he shivered, spine stiffening, as two large hands wrapped around his biceps, steadying him.

"Late again? My, my," the figure said, and Stiles looked up and lost his breath. A pair of dark eyes, so dark he thought they were almost black, bored into his own and a smirk tugged at the corner of a pair of sinful lips surrounded by dark stubble. He was taller than Stiles, so tall that the top of his head came up to his lips, and was all muscle. When Stiles walked into him, he thought he'd walked into a brick wall. "Looks like someone may have to ask for forgiveness." The hands on his arms felt like brands, icy-hot brands, searing invisible marks into his skin through his shirt.

"Please let me go," Stiles asked quietly, voice trembling, and the man holding him gave him a predatory grin. One that Stiles couldn't contain his shiver at, and the grin somehow became more hungry.

"One day, you're going to ask the exact opposite of that." The voice was deep, almost as if being spoken through surround-sound speakers. It felt like a promise. Stiles blinked once, and suddenly the man was gone. But the cold heat from his hands was still swimming in Stiles' veins. Once Stiles had entered the church, he dipped his fingers in the holy water and crossed himself with a shaking hand.

l^l^l^l^l

_"All the things I could teach you- all the things I've learnt over the aeons I could do to your body." Stiles whimpered at the hot mass across his back's words, the weight forcing him down into his mattress and pinning his aching, weeping cock against it. His could move his hands either, both sets of fingers intertwined with another pair, rough palms pressed against the sinewy backs of his hands. The pillow against his cheek was hot with his breath, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the husky voice close to his ear and the long, hard cock that was rutting between his ass cheeks, the head occasionally catching his red and puffy rim, causing him to let out a whine._

_"I know just the places to nip..." A sharp little nip to the tip of his ear with teeth had Stiles bucking up minutely._

_"I know just the places to scratch.." A blunt fingernail scraped a line down the back of Stiles' thigh, starting at the top of his pert ass, and he whimpered in response._

_"I know just the places to possess..." A sharp slap on his right ass cheek had him cry out, the stinging flesh turning scarlet from the amount of force. The rutting never ceased throughout his teasing. Stiles arched his neck up, arching it further until the back of his head was in contact with the mass's muscled shoulder. A hungry laugh sounded right in his ear, and Stiles felt stubble rub across the thin, sensitive skin of his neck. A large hand splayed across his lower abdomen and pushed up, making both their bodies rise together until they were both on their knees. Stiles' lithe body was limp, only being held up by the hand on his abdomen and the hand that'd wrapped itself lightly around his neck. The hand on his abdomen trailed lower, blunt fingertips just brushing the head of his achingly-hard cock, and Stiles begged,_

_"Pleasepleasepleaseplease!"_

_"You must be the sluttiest little church boy I've ever laid my hands on," the mass replied, rutting his hips a little faster as he curled a large hand around Stiles' member, and the boy let out a blissful keen. At first contact, he felt like electricity had been shot through his skin, desensitising his skin so he was on a whole new level of pleasure. As the hand began to move, the feeling became more intense, the feeling somehow a mix between ice cold and hellfire hot. The muscles in his pelvis began to tighten, his red hole clenching and unclenching, and he couldn't stop the breathy pants and pleas that spilled from his bruised lips. "You're so perfect, Stiles. The perfect little virgin sacrifice on the altar of God."_

_With those word, Stiles screamed out his release, eyes screwed shut, and he felt the skin on his neck break as the gold crucifix he wore was ripped from him._

Stiles woke up with a ragged gasp, hands clutching at his t-shirt. The after-sensations of his ear being nipped and his thigh being scratched still lingered, and a hand immediately went to his neck, and his heartbeat slowed as he felt the thin chain of his crucifix. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and sweaty all over. Kicking away his bedsheets, his pyjama bottoms clung uncomfortably to his softening crotch, the dark patch immensely bigger than it ever had been before.

Ten minutes later and the boy could be found in the bathtub, the shower raining down on him, while he clutched his crucifix with both hands and recited the Lord's Prayer over an over again, completely unaware of the large red handprint on his right ass cheek.

l^l^l^l^l

Stiles lips were moving in silent prayer as he knelt in one of the pews at the back of the church, his crucifix dangling from his clasped hands. A few other parishioners were present, but much further forward, closer to the effigies of Jesus and Mary. He wasn't dressed in his best clothes; he'd raced from school to the church, parking haphazardly, when he'd felt the icy-hot presence again. The church could offer him salvation. Whatever demon was torturing him in the most sinful ways wouldn't be able to reach him here.

"Y'know, Stiles, most of the time, He can't hear you."

Stiles' spine stiffened at the familiar husky and gravelly voice, and his hands began to shake, the crucifix swinging wildly. "How did you get in here? This is hallowed ground." His voice trembled slighting, and he inwardly shamed himself for having the impulse to turn around and look upon the man's face. 

"I'm not a demon." Was the simple reply.

"But you're not an angel either, are you?" An amused hum answered him.

"Excellent deduction, Stiles." A jolt of electricity shot down to Stiles' groin, and he squeezed his eyes shut, begging for forgiveness like a man about to die at the hands of another. "Why won't you look at me, Stiles? Afraid you'll like what you'll see too much?" The tone was taunting, teasing.

"No," Stiles replied, and the man chuckled deeply.

"Then turn and look at me." There was a power in the man's voice, and Stiles found himself lifting his body back onto the bench and twisting around, facing the man again. Instead of a black leather jacket, this time he was wearing a simple black v-neck, cut like sin to his muscles, and a salacious grin. "Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Stiles ignored the man's taunt, staring directly at the man's right temple so he didn't have to look in his eyes.

"The name's Azazel, but it's a bit old-fashioned. So many negative connotations with that name. I go by Derek nowadays," the man replied, shrugging, and Stiles flicked back through the knowledge in his head from all the Sunday school sessions he'd attended.

"You're a fallen angel," he whispered, and 'Derek' flashed him a white grin.

"Mhm," he confirmed. "Banished from Heaven with my brothers because we just couldn't stop _fucking_ you."

Stiles swallowed heavily at the sight of the fire that now seemed to burn more intensely in Derek's dark eyes. "What do you want with me?" He asked, repeating his earlier question. Derek raised a thick eyebrow.

"Isn't it obvious, Stiles? I want what I've wanted for all the aeons I've been on this Earth. I want to desecrate your faith...your body...and your hope." Derek's voice became deeper and more seductive, and he leant forward inch by inch until he could almost smell the fearful arousal on his chosen's body. "I know you're denying it, Stiles. I know what you dreamed about the other night. One can't be so pure if they think thoughts like that, can they?"

Stiles' chest rose and fell at Derek's words, and he was so focused on them that he didn't even notice the painful tightening go this jeans where his chubbing cock was being pressed against his zipper. Derek grinned again, his mouth no more than three inches away from Stiles' face.

"When the day comes that you realise that all _this _-" he gestured around them- "is just a way of you fighting back what is natural, your body will call for me, and I will answer you and more."__

Stiles shut his eyes at the imagery that played around in his head- him bouncing up and down on Derek's cock in the confessional booth, scratching and biting each other in the baptismal pool, the organ blasting out discordant chords as his hand slammed down on it while Derek blew him on the seat. Derek laughed, heady and delicious, as if he could hear Stiles' thoughts. "I feel that day isn't too far in the future," he mused, and Stiles' jumped at the soft press of a stubbled kiss to his smooth cheek. When he reopened his eyes, Derek had disappeared. 

He'd been marked by an angel, but not in the way the angel wanted most.

l^l^l^l^l

_Stiles buried his head further into his pillow at the sensation of stubble being dragged across his exposed asshole, the skin around it already red from irritation and spit, his cries muffled by the fabric._

_"Don't you like that, Stiles?" the mass said, voice buzzing against the milky flesh as he playfully sunk his teeth into the supple muscle. Stiles mewled, arching his back so his ass presented a little higher, and the chuckle that ran through Stiles' skin itched him inside in places he didn't even know where screaming out for this kind of attention. The mass's tongue soothed and stroked over the stubble burn, purposely catching on the puffy rim ever few strokes, Stiles keening at the sensation. Soon, the tongue was replaced by two fingers, and the brunet teen shuddered and squeezed his pillow tightly as the two fingers plunged into his body, the anal play he'd been undergoing having relaxed and stretched his muscles. "Mmm, such a hot, tight little fuckhole you've got. We're going to have so much fun." The fingers were gone almost as soon as they were there, Derek curling his fingers at the last moment so they made the hole gape slightly, and Stiles groaned low in his throat at the burning stretch._

_"'s too much," Stiles slurred out, raising his head from his pillow, bending his neck back. The mass behind him shifted, and he soon felt the weight of its body across his own._

_"_ Nothing is too much," _it replied, and, as quick as a flash, fingertips were digging into his asscheeks and pulling them apart, leaving the puffy hole exposed for its lips. Stiles' back bowed violently and he screamed as his asshole was sucked harder and his cheeks were squeezed even harder. The mattress beneath him was immediately stained, some of the stain splattering up towards the pillows. Stiles' position was sustained as the mass crawled up onto its knees and held him close to his body, very similar to the position in Stiles' last dream, and sucked marks into Stiles' neck, teeth occasionally down on the gold crucifix's chain. "This will come off soon, and I will have you," the mass promised, and Stiles shivered, a twisted grin turning up the corner of his pouty lips. A rough hand smoothed its way up Stiles' chest to his neck, past that to his jawline, and a thumb pulled down Stiles' bottom lip. The boy took initiative and swiped at it with his tongue, brining it into his mouth and biting down with little force. The mass hissed and pressed further to him._

_"Yessss..."_

l^l^l^l^l

Stiles didn't see Derek for almost over a week, and it nearly drove him to insanity. He had a few dreams, but they lacked the vivid detail and the electric shocks under his skin when he woke up that the other's did. These ones didn't feel real. When he was in church, his shoulders were stiff in anticipation for hearing Derek's voice behind him, taunting him while he prayed. Every time he walked to church he always looked at the line of trees on the other side of the road, just for a glimpse of black clothing or cigarette smoke.

l^l^l^l^l

Stiles' body called at 9pm on Saturday. He'd tried to go to sleep early, his body craving an icy chill he couldn't get by turning down the heat or opening his window. He knew what he needed, and he knew where to get it. He was already in his pyjamas, so he shucked them off and replaced them with a pair of jeans and his red hoodie. He felt sure Derek would appreciate the lack of clothing beneath each item, the denim of his jeans rubbing distractingly well against his cock as he jogged lightly down the stairs and out to his Jeep. Neither of his parents would miss him- his father working overnight on a big case at the station, and his mother taking the night shift at the hospital. The roads on the way to the church were dead, and he drove like an agent of Hell was on his tail. With it being so late, and being distracted by his anticipation, he parked illegally outside the church.

The interior of the church was just lit by candles. Hundreds of them lined the various niches in the walls, and the large ones down the front by the alter gave the effigies a warm glow. Ever the memoriam candles were still lit, tiny little prayers stacked over four rows. Two huge, white, pillar candles flanked the baptismal pool in front of the altar. The stone cover that was settled on top of it when it wasn't in use was missing. Walking quickly, trainers squeaking quietly on the marble floor, Stiles made his way down to the altar, side-stepping the pool, and knelt down on the steps, hand immediately going to his crucifix and pretending to pray. He only had to act for a few moments before there was the quiet sound of whooshing air, and a large hand raked through his hair, tugging slightly. A secret grin spread across his face.

"Thought I would find you here," Derek's voice said behind him, and Stiles tilted his head back, bared the entirety of his neck. He watched Derek's hungry eyes take in his large, Bambi eyes and open mouth.

"Glad you did?" he retorted, and he was answered by Derek swooping down and dragging him into a forceful kiss, all teeth and stubble and spit. A particularly sharp nip to Stiles' lip had it bleeding, and once the taste hit Derek tongue, he growled low in his chest, the sound making every muscle in Stiles' body go lax and become charged simultaneously. The hand in his hair massaged his scalp, while the other smoothed over his shoulder, along his collarbone, and around his neck, the tip of its thumb resting under his chin, keeping it up.

"Knew it wouldn't be long...wouldn't be long...'til you could admit to wanting me... _take_ you," Derek said between kisses (devourings). His hand that was resting on Stiles' neck slid down a little, fingertips just brushing the top of the zip of the hoodie. He slowed his kisses, savouring the flavours of sin, unadulterated desire, and abandoned faith, as he slid the zipper down, hearing every single tooth slide free. Halfway down the boy's torso was when he realised he was wearing nothing beneath the soft red fabric, and with a growl, he turned the boy around, so Stiles was braced with his back against the short marble steps. Derek ripped the rest of the hoodie open, and his eyes raked and burned over the flawless flesh that was now exposed, and he watched in delight as a pink flush worked its way down from his neck, across his collarbone, nearly reaching his perky nipples. Stiles didn't know if it was the sudden rush of blood from his head that cause him to see it, but he thought he saw sparks flicker in the black depths of Derek's eyes.

"All I want, Derek." His voice was rough, but soft. It probably wouldn't have been heard even in the front pews. " _Take this away from me_."

Derek descended swiftly on him again, lips a little softer in pressure, but with far more bite than before. During their kissing, Derek pushed Stiles back a little more against the marble steps, making sure that the edge of the step was comfortably lodged beneath his wing bones and ripping off his shirt as he pushed Stiles' legs apart, sliding himself between them. Derek let out a shaking breath when their overheated skin touched, the all-consuming feelings that gnawed at him through eternity lessening slightly. It felt like cold lotion being applied to sunburn, like ice cold water sliding down a dry throat, like the final waves of an orgasm that left you feeling smiley and sated. Derek's sucking kisses moved from Stiles' mouth down his neck, leaving crimson bruises in their wake. The hands that Stiles' had wound into Derek's messy hair slid out and spread across the steps next to them on either side of them, blindly seeking out something stable to hold while Derek assaulted him. One particularly hard suck just shy of his left nipple had Stiles keen loudly and throw his head back, revelling in the pressure and and the cold stone at the base of his neck.

Pausing his length assault on his prey, Derek looked up at the large brass cross that was suspended above the alter. "Enjoying the show, Dad?" he asked against Stiles' skin, and Stiles shivered at the idea of a heavenly, taboo voyeur. After one final suck to the pale skin of his stomach, Derek rose up to survey his message. Spanning the length and width of Stiles' torso was a cross of hickies, some pale, some looking perilously close to bleeding. Every once in a while, one was lightly ringed with tooth indentations. "I'd forgotten how pretty and easily humans were marked," he noted absently, lazily dragging a finger down the middle of Stiles' torso, finger just dipping into the waistband of the dark jeans that looked painfully-tented. He hooked it, and Stiles jumped when the taught waistband thumped against the thin, trembling skin. Derek cocked his head to the side, thoughtfully. "You already look like you're about to release, Stiles."

The boy shook his head adamantly. "Nope," he said. "Just getting' started." He pushed himself up and curled a surprisingly-large hand around the back of Derek's neck, half using it to drag him into a kiss, and half using it to hoist himself up into a kiss. Derek grinned into the kiss, amused at the child's enthusiasm and lack of skill. The ended up entangled, Stiles rutting up desperately against Derek's hard and defined abs, while Derek's arms encircled Stiles' waist, stripping the boy of his hoodie and dragging his blunt nails across his prominent wing bones. The boy shivered, and Derek made a hungry, gleeful sound.

"Still just starting?" he asked teasingly, nipping hard at the boy's smooth jawline, and in response he got a hot huff of breath across his cheekbone and rut that was so hard that it pushed him back slightly. "You don't have to wait it out, Stiles." Placing a hand on the small of his back, Derek forced Stiles down on one of his grinds, letting him feel the ridge in his tight jeans. "I'm nearly there, and I can guarantee that this isn't going to end when we cum the first time." Stiles' grinds became harder and faster, tiny little whimpers escaping his lips as he buried his face deep in Derek's neck, enjoying the stubble scratching at his skin. Broad hands slipped under the waistband of his jeans and alternated between squeezing, cupping, and scratching his ass. A hand sliding up to the nape of his neck and squeezing had Stiles make a pitiful whine, head tilting back as Derek lifted him slightly with inhuman strength. In his position, Stiles' tilted chin was just above his line of sight, leaving his exposed neck and torso to be burned by his gaze. Keeping his hand flexing on his pert ass, Derek bent his head to Stiles' nipple, flicking his tongue against the hard nub once before growling, "Cum!" and biting down hard on the supple flesh.

Stiles' scream reverberated around the church walls.

l^l^l^l^l

The second time Derek made Stiles' cum, the fallen angel was seating on the uncomfortable wooden seat in the confessional booth, his face pressed into Stiles' taut neck while he rubbed the skin sore with his stubble. The stiff, numb feeling he was getting in his ass made him push up higher into Stiles, trying to avoid the feeling as much as possible. "Did you think about this Stiles? Think about me taking you in the place you apologised for wanting me?" he asked, and tugged on Stiles' earlobe while simultaneously squeezing Stiles' pert ass. His only response was Stiles' heavy breathing, and spanked the boy hard, almost undoubtedly leaving behind a handprint, and Stiles yelped, his arms tightening around Derek's shoulders. "Answer me!" he growled.

"Yes! God, yes!" Stiles whimpered, Derek's cock milking his prostate for all he was worth. He couldn't help but stare at the wide grin on Derek's face with glassy eyes as he came untouched.

l^l^l^l^l

Stiles’ fingers curled in the soft, expensive fabric of the altar cover, trying to scoot his head away from the puddle of drool that was uncomfortably close to the corner of his mouth. One particularly sharp nip just to the left of his asshole had him letting out a manly squeak and go up on his tiptoes, unsure wether he was trying to get away from the assault, or present himself. Derek's dark chuckle rippled through his muscles, and he was rewarded for his noise with a wet stripe across his puckered hole. The sharp edge of the marble altar was pressing into the middle of his abdomen, occasionally rubbing off a few flakes of dried cum from his skin as he wiggled under Derek's ministrations.

"You taste like sin, Stiles," Derek growled, and Stiles' howl echoed off the high walls at Derek's quick, sharp, little sucks to his hole. Two large hands sliding around to the front of his thighs, pulling them away from the altar and up. Stiles went with it, letting Derek move and shape him the way he wanted, until he ended up on knees and elbows on the marble slab. Reaching over Stiles' sprawled body, Derek strongly batted the large crucifix off the altar, and it bounced with loud clangs down the steps, stopping after knocking the corner of the first row of pews. Stiles' body spasmed with each clang, dripping cock bobbing and leaking out more beads of precum. There was so much of it that he could smell it more strongly than their mingled sweat. Derek's sucks continued, his face pressing deeper into the musky cleft as he raised a knee up onto the alter for a better angle. Stiles' head was already feeling hazy and hard to hold up, so he let his chin bump against his chest as he dropped it. He let out a startled yelp as a large hand yanked up his head, neck straining. Derek's hot body slid up along his back as he hoisted himself fully up onto the altar, and he dug his teeth into the side of Stiles' neck, leaving angry red marks. "Look up, Stiles. Look up and beg for it," he growled. Derek's mouth at Stiles' hole had been replaced by two thick fingers, and Stiles screamed up at the large suspended crucifix as they heavily massaged his prostate.

" _Please!_ " He cried, and he could feel Derek's wolfish grin against his skin as the massaging became more forceful and the hand slipped from his hair, moving to surround his cock and pull it twice. It only took that much for Stiles' to stain the altar cloth with more cum than he'd ever seen in his life and his tears, his body so sensitive to everyone of Derek's touches that he had wet tracks sliding down his cheeks. Adjusting his position, Derek kissed away the salty tracks and wrapped his arms around Stiles' shaky forearms, strengthening him so he didn't fall into the creamy puddle beneath him. He manoeuvred him easily; the boy was so pliant that it was like moving a deeply-sleeping cat. Slipping the boy down onto the cold floor and arranging him on his knees between his own spread, muscular legs, Derek weaved a hand gently into his hair and guided his own achingly hard cock into the boy's plush mouth, transfixed by the watery gold eyes that stared up at him, surrounded by clumped dark lashes. As far as he knew, Stiles was a completely virgin only in body. His dreams were like a porn archive, and he'd had so much fun rifling through them to find one to slip into and press 'play'. His mouth was the perfect suction, and he shivered slightly when Stiles' dextrous tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his shaft.

"Good boy, Stiles," he purred, and he moaned when Stiles sucked a little harder at the praise. The boy seemed to be a natural-born cockslut, dipping his head to take Derek all the way, swallowing him down so the mushroom head rubbed the back of his throat, spit dripping from the corner of his mouth and down his chin. He barely came up for air. Every now and then, when Derek's hand clenched in his hair when he did something good, Stiles made a happy gurgling noise, the vibrations making Derek's cock twitch against his tongue, and the boy smiled around his mouthful. Derek's balls began to tighten, and he grunted out a warning to Stiles to tell him what was going to happen, but the brunet already knew. He could feel Derek's balls shift against his chin and he sucked harder, catching the called angel off-guard and placing a sharp little nip to just beneath his head. He came with a roar, head flung back and Adam's apple ebbing violently as his cock pulsed cum in Stiles' mouth and over his face. Stiles pulled off early, smearing the cock over his lips and chin, trailing behind the thick white liquid and slopping licking at the sensitive head as it brushed over his lips. Derek had to pull the boy's head away, his flesh too sensitive for his ministrations, and he eyed the boy on his knees before him. His hair was a mess, and his pink tongue came out to take a deliberately long swipe across his bottom lip, dragging in the bitter mess that decorated his face. His eyes never left Derek's.

Nudging him with his foot, Derek moved him so he could descend from the altar without stepping on him, and he bent over deeply so he could place a kiss on Stiles' lips, licking off some of his cum and pushing it into his mouth with his tongue. Stiles shivered beneath his kiss, and Derek chuckled, low and rich. "I feel like a soak, Stiles, don't you?" The boy nodded eagerly, eyes closed. Derek picked him up, cradling him in his arms, and Stiles buried against the firm hot skin, hands splaying across his pectorals, feeling out the soft fuzz of chest hair. Derek strode over to the baptism pool as if Stiles weighed nothing, and stepped into it, careful not to slip or jostle his cargo. Stiles sighed as soon as he was submerged, seated comfortably between Derek's legs on the small shelf that ran around the pool that served as a step. Derek's hands summed lightly across his thighs and hips as he encircled him, making his body go lax and gooey. While one hand splayed out on his hips, the other slid up his chest and thumbed over his nipples, making them immediately hard. Stiles' breath caught in his throat, and Derek began to pepper feather-light kisses along the back of Stiles' neck, making goosebumps rise across the pale flesh. "Feeling relaxed?" he murmured into his ear, and Stiles let out a pleased hum.

Stiles was too wrapped up in the feeling of being surrounded by heat to notice the hand skimming down over his torso, just-bypassing his semi-hard cock, and stroking along the crease of his arse, blunt fingertips so close to brushing his sloppy hole. The first touch had Stiles spreading his legs wider, hooking his ankles over Derek's calves, and electricity fizzed through his veins at the first touch. Derek's chest rumbled in amusement against his back, and the fingers probed more. He was still loose and wet from his rimming, and Derek's index finger slipped in without any resistance, Stiles letting out a high keen at the full feeling. "Your little hole's hungry, Stiles," Derek commented, catching Stiles' earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly. He felt the boy's full-body shiver ripple the water around them, "I think it needs to be fed." Without warning, Derek pushed in his middle finger too, and Stiles' back bowed at the force, his mouth open in a silent gasp of pleasure. Derek hummed gleefully. Giving him only a moment to adjust to the intrusion, he began to move his fingers in and out, and Stiles lifted a fist to his mouth to stop any moans coming out. Derek batted it away with the hand that'd been splayed across Stiles' lower abdomen. "I want to hear everything, Stiles," he said, and he turned his head so they could press their lips together. Derek swallowed each heavy moan and curse, his mind feeling heady with the thick taste of arousal and teenager. Each moan liquified and slipped down his throat, making his tongue lazy, but desperate for more. Soon, Stiles had four fingers twisting inside him, and he pulled his lips away from Derek's let out a yelp as his prostate was brushed. It was still sore from its previous abuse, and Derek grinned devilishly. Manhandling him roughly, Derek turned Stiles around so his long legs were straddling Derek's hips and their wet chests were pressed flush together. "I wonder how tight you'll be..." Derek mused aloud, his index finger absentmindedly plucking at Stiles' rim. The boy let out a whimper at every movement, burying his head in Derek's neck and wiggling so he could feel his stubble brush against his temple.

Shifting himself as subtly as possible, Derek moved his hips so his cock was oh-so-very close to brushing Stiles' hole. "Will you be tight enough for me just to fit in...?" His musing was punctuated by a well-placed jab of his cock to Stiles' hole, and the head just popped in before he pulled it out again, and Stiles let out an indignant yelp. Derek soothed him with a soft kiss to his cheek and a rasp of his stubble. "...or will I be able to slide right in?"

Derek's entire thick length slid into Stiles' hole with only the slightest bit of extra force, and Stiles' back bowed, head tilted all the way back with plush lips open in a thick, silent gasp. His collarbones were so sharp that Derek felt the irrational fear that they could rip out from underneath his pale skin, and droplets of water raced between the scarlet hickeys on his chest. His hole was incredibly tight, clenching around the intrusion, and Stiles' chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. The thin skin of his neck was stretched taut, his Adam's apple bobbing temptingly, and the gold chain of his crucifix glinted tauntingly in the light of the candles.

 _You can't have him until I'm gone_.

What sounded like a choked hiccup emanated from Stiles when Derek pulled out slightly and pushed back in, and Derek found the sound amusing, so he prompted it from him again. The thrusts soon became a little more forceful, and Stiles curled back into Derek's burning body, babble and pleasured sounds leaving him at sporadic intervals. Once in a while he'd place his lips to Derek's neck, his stubble tickling his lips, and he'd place little nips and licks to the skin until he gasped and moved way again as Derek nailed his prostate. Each point of contact sent a lick of fire through Derek's gold-filled veins.

"D-D-De-e-erek," Stiles stuttered out, his body bouncing uncontrollably at the force of Derek's thrusts, his carved chin knocking against his partner's muscled shoulder. Derek's large arms totally encompassed his waist, holding him close to the inferno of hellfire and angel blood that he consisted of. " 'm gonna cum and I c-can't hold it." A particularly harsh thrust to this prostate forced out a sob. In their close proximity, there wasn't enough room for him to slip a hand between them and relieve himself, and he knew he didn't have to look at his virgin prick to know it was probably purple and weeping, leaving murky trails in the salty water. The being on the underside throbbed and he felt it all the way in the back of his pelvis.

"You will _not_ cum," Derek growled in his ear, and Stiles shivered. _If you carry on talking to me like that, I'm gonna!_. Surprising the hell out of Stiles, Derek shifted his legs and they both rose out of the water, Stiles' lanky limbs still wrapped around his fallen angel and a thick cock still speared inside him. Because of his position, Stiles couldn't tell where they were going, but he almost immediately felt the cold side of a marble slab against his lower back as he was tilted backwards, and he didn't need to be a genius to know he was being laid upon the altar like an offering. Like a sacrifice. He hadn't even adjusted to the cold sensation when Derek began to thrust again, and the surprise gave it an edge. He'd already cummed three times that night, and he didn't know if he had the strength for anymore. His legs already felt like stretched rubber, and his head felt slightly fuzzy. His cock ached the way his muscles did after a long and arduous lacrosse session, but he knew he wasn't allowed to massage it to relieve himself. Derek's thrusts became a little faster, more forceful, and all Stiles could do was moan, his vocal chords giving out after the noises Derek had wrenched from him. "Are you close, Stiles? Are you about to cum?"

Stiles nodded, letting out a small strangled sound. He could already feel the white-hot pulse in his pelvis, and the sound of Derek's velvet-over-gravel voice only made it burn hotter. "I need to have you, Stiles, but I can't like this." Stiles' already-addled mind became confused, and Derek's index finger traced the gold hair of Stiles' crucifix, lightly brushing the sensitive skin and making Stiles shiver. "I _want_ to have you..."

"Fucking do it," Stiles' grunted, and he curled his fingers into the chain and pulled harshly. The thin links snapped, and the momentum from the pull launched the necklace towards the baptismal pool. His neck smarted in pain, where his rough action had broken the skin a little, and a small pool of blood formed in his clavicle. Derek wasted no time in doubling his thrust's speed and force while bending over to seal his lips over the bleeding scratches, and Stiles wove his fingers into his messy dark hair and held on tight. Five thrusts more and Stiles screamed, the sound cutting off abruptly into a sob as he came. Derek followed soon, and Stiles took in a sharp breath as something thicker than Derek's cock was forced into his dripping hole. He immediately felt surges of warmth flood him and, being the clever and curious boy he was, he made the connection that Derek had knotted him (something he'd researched while on a Wiki spiral and then immediately prayed for forgiveness after for what he'd found). Derek's hole body was bowed back, only the palms of his hands and hips making any connection with Stiles' body, and Stiles couldn't help but splay his fingers over his body and run his hands up the unusually-hot skin, feeling every curvature and ripple of muscle.. He shifted on the warm marble, feeling Derek's knot grow ever bigger in his channel, and he didn't know if he could take it all. At the very epitome of his worry, the knot slid snugly against his prostate and pressed, making him scream and cum again. He hadn't even realised he'd stayed hard within those few minutes, but this orgasm was a dry one, and it vibrated throughout his bones and skin, making him feel like a hollow void filled with electricity. His eyes were partially closed- he was so exhausted- when Derek loud out a long, drawn out yell, and a black mass surged out from behind him. A great whoosh of air swam over his sweaty skin, and almost every candle in the church when out, leaving them in an impossible dimness. The sound of flapping and Derek's laboured breaths were all he could hear.

"So perfect, Stiles," Derek whispered, over and over. "You were made for angels. You were made for us."

They felt like little prayers to Stiles, and for a a moment, the teenager wondered if this is what God felt. The overwhelming satisfaction of giving someone what they needed most, living off their need and faith that he could do something, and getting that tenfold in return. Derek's body bent in half so he was collapsed over Stiles, breathing heavily into his chest, and Stiles could feel something soft and downy, but also razor sharp brush across his arms and blow air over him. He could barely see through the dim and his partially-closed eyes didn't help, but he thought he saw bolts of dull dark blue and indigo flit through the dark. Reaching up with shaky hands, he placed his broad hands on Derek's shoulders and slid them down, towards his wing bones. His fingertips came into contact with something hard and smooth coming out of Derek's skin.

He disappeared into the hazy darkness of his eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> I think we all need to go have a bath in some holy water...
> 
> For Ellie, who is totally my bae and I love her in every single way (Ellie obviously _did not_ tell me to write this ;) )


End file.
